


No Seatbelt

by iridescentglow



Category: Joan of Arcadia
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-23
Updated: 2005-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentglow/pseuds/iridescentglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace invites Adam along on her date with Luke - which is definitely not a date anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Seatbelt

**Author's Note:**

> Post-'Silence'.

"You invited him along? on our . . . our _date_?" Luke hissed at Grace.

Adam was staring out the window, seemingly oblivious to their conversation, and doing what Luke recognized as a practiced imitation of non-existence.

"It's not a date," Grace corrected automatically and without expression. She continued to rifle through Luke's (frankly, _pitiful_ ) CD collection in search of something that wouldn't make her ears bleed.

"Right. We're just two people of the opposite sex spending an evening together on a social basis," Luke said under his breath, his exasperation bordering on sarcasm.

Grace turned to face him, brandishing an Enya CD menacingly. "Firstly, give Adam a break. His life is pretty fucked up right now, in case you hadn't noticed. And _secondly_ —" Grace was gaining steam, and Luke had visions of her ears beginning to smoke a little. "It is. _Not_. A. _Date_."

"But I had stuff _planned_. I wanted to . . . treat you right." Luke's eagerness wilted under Grace's glare. "Or whatever." 

"Look Girardi," she said, "how many times do I have to say it before you comprehend? We're not _exclusive_ , or whatever socially prescribed terminology you want to use to label me as yours and yours alone. I don't want to start wearing your class ring—"

"I could give you my . . ."

"This isn't the fifties! Donna Reed isn't going to swoop down and bake us in her oven if we're not formally betrothed! We're teenagers who make out sometimes when the urge gets too strong to ignore—"

"But . . ."

Grace exhaled long and hard, in what she hoped was a calming way. She pushed firmly against Luke's shoulders. She stared into his eyes, catching his fluttering, petulant gaze and trapping it still.

"Listen," she said, more kindly. "This is a _good_ thing. We get the good stuff, without the bullshit. We're _free_ from that."

"I don't _want_ —"

Grace snapped abruptly back into her fierce default. "For God's sake! I'm not your girlfriend! You don't get a say in my life! If I wanted to— to— make out with Rove right now, I _could_!" She swung sharply around, grabbing a fistful of Adam's shirt. "Kiss me, Rove! Really lay it on me, baby."

"Grace!" Luke yelped. 

"Shhh, I'm busy right now," said Grace dismissively, turning briefly back to Luke, before refocusing her attention on Adam.

"Uhh, Grace . . ." Adam, still held fast by Grace's grip, looked faintly panicked. Grace kissed him hard and without warning.

She was pleased to feel his lips yield against hers, hurried collision softening into pleasant, thrilling contact. Grace could feel Luke's eyes upon them; she could imagine his open-mouthed horror. She felt her lips twist with a smile. As the suggestion of Adam's tongue flicked inquisitively, she pulled away contently.

"I can't _believe_ you just did that!" Luke spluttered, as Grace's kissing headspace faded.

"I do feel kind of violated," Adam offered, trying not to laugh.

"Lighten up, Girardi," Grace said bracingly. "You can make out with Adam, too, if you want. That's the point of our _arrangement_. No strings."

Behind her, Adam squinted uncertainly. "Not that I don't appreciate my sudden popularity, but I think maybe you guys should figure out your stuff between the two of you." Adam shifted, preparing to leave.

"No! Bring it on!" said Luke suddenly, glaring at Grace while he signalled with his arms for Adam to stay. "I have no strings! I'm not . . . Pinocchio!"—Luke paused furiously, grabbing Adam's arm—"I'm a _real_ boy now!"

"Um, I really don't think . . ." Adam began, but Luke had already squirmed close to him. Their arms were tangled awkwardly, and their embrace lacked the easy assurance of Adam and Grace's clinch.

"Go on, then," Grace said languidly from beside him. "Prove what a _man_ you are. Make out with your crazy sister's maybe-boyfriend."

Luke was suddenly aware of just how close he and Adam were. He saw Adam's eyes tint with sadness at Grace's words; he felt the swift knife of Joan's absence in his heart. For a moment they stood motionless, unable to disentangle themselves from the mess of emotions. Luke could hear Adam's breathing; he could feel the rapid beat of his own heart. 

Grace fingers pushed gently across the nape of Luke's neck, tickling softly. She brought her face close to his ear. "I'm being a bitch tonight, aren't I?" She sighed heavily, and he felt his hair move. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

Luke's heart-rate slowed. He closed his eyes, enjoying Grace's sudden warmth. His hands were still tangled awkwardly up in Adam, and he felt the gentle shift of Adam's body at his arm's reach.

"Adam, let's go," Grace said finally, the words pressing against Luke's ear.

In the merest shift of time, they had separated. Adam's hands fidgeted uncomfortably in his hair, while Luke stood motionless with practiced skill. Grace pulled on her boots, and headed for the door.

"See ya," she said to Luke with a steely smile. She did not kiss him goodbye. 

"Yeah. Bye. See you . . . soon," Luke stumbled, his gaze wavering between Grace and Adam. Grace frowned and strode from the room, leaving Luke alone with Adam.

"Dude," Adam said softly, catching Luke briefly by the arm. "Don't let Grace play with your mind too much. She doesn't know what she wants . . . Or maybe she knows too well . . . Either way, she's confused." He nodded solemnly, his blurred gaze fixed upon Luke. "Give her a break . . . but don't play her games."

Adam kissed him suddenly, fluidly and without embarrassment. Images of Adam kissing Grace slanted momentarily through Luke's head, fading to a dizzy warmth of confusion as he broke away.

Luke blinked, and his room was empty.

*

Grace and Adam walked home with an unhurriedness that made Grace's skin itch. Adam drifted across the sidewalk, stepping in the gutter or pausing at storefront steps; he weaved slow, entranced lines around her, dropping back only to race ahead for no apparent reason. It made Grace want to grab his hand and yank him into line with her.

They passed the turning for Adam's street and he didn't pause (although his pace did steady suspiciously, and he cut a dead straight line across the road). Grace guessed he wasn't in the mood for going home, either. Tonight was her dad's prayer meeting, which meant bad dip and a house filled with people. (For some reason, her ability to say no to Luke's proposed "dates" always caved a little on Tuesdays.)

They ended up at the unfinished highway simply because it was as far as it was possible to go in this direction. Beyond lay the _world_ , but at this strange and lonely expanse of concrete, they were still safe in Arcadia. ("Just stay inside the city limits," Grace's father would sigh, ever since she'd turned 16 and he'd started getting manic premonitions of her on the freeway to Toronto.) They sat on a crash barrier, and Grace imagined the noise and smoke of a thousand cars around her. Her breath caught a little, and she said—

"You really didn't have sex?" It was something that had been bugging her for a while.

Adam blinked, staring a little. His eyes were dark pools of shadow in this darkness. She couldn't even pretend to read his expression.

His lips formed the name _Jane_ soundlessly before he found his voice: "No. It wasn't the right . . . time."

"Probably for the best," Grace said archly. "I mean, having sex with someone who's delusional. Knowing your luck she'd probably think she was fucking God."

Grace waited for a reaction. She _wanted_ a reaction. For Adam to acknowledge (with anger, with _anything_ more than this wounded puppy dog act) – that she was _gone_ , that they had lost her (and indeed, that there had been something for them to lose).

He nodded, as if she had said something wise rather than mean. She hated that about him; his ability to agree with her.

She stared out into the concrete landscape, into what would one day be an endless stream of cars.

"The big _V_ ," she muttered. "It's such a burden, a _liability_." Grace paused. She felt a sudden need to be drunk beyond any kind of comprehension; sprawling and free. The woozy sensation filled up her throat. "I should just get it over with."

"What about Luke?" Adam asked, and Grace was almost surprised to find him still following the conversation.

"Luke?" Grace said, in a hard voice. "No way. He'd misconstrue it, think I was making a lifelong commitment . . ." she trailed off, and whispered: "no way."

Her therapist (the one she'd gone to for a single hour and never seen again) would say she was deliberately sabotaging her chance at love. Fuck that pop psychology bullshit. Real life wasn't like the pages of a self help book.

"I should just go to a bar," Grace continued, willing the hardness back into her voice. "Find a guy. Or a girl." She paused, feeling the charge of the statement. She exhaled slowly, and felt an indiscriminate urge for a cigarette.

Again she waited for Adam's reaction.

"You and Jane," he said softly.

"No," she said abruptly, uneasily. "Not me and Joan. Not really."

She turned to look at him, still exhaling imaginary cigarette smoke. His expression was sad and understanding, and she realized how pathetically glad he was to have found someone who felt even a fraction of what he was feeling. Grace felt strangely touched. She wanted to hug him, but she didn't know how to be that type of friend.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she apologised, instead.

"No big. You were confused. Scared. About Luke. About . . . other things."

"I'd rather just chalk this up to me being a big bitch."

"Okay," he said, smiling softly, the sadness and empathy still in place.

"Okay," she echoed.

Grace felt Adam's arms reaching around her shoulders, awkward and hesitant as he pulled her into an embrace. The warmth from their kiss earlier had faded, its intensity altered somehow. His t-shirt was cold against her cheek, and she felt her body slacken in a way it hadn't done earlier.

He didn't hold her very close, and she only returned the hug only very slightly.


End file.
